


After I Have Known You So Very Intimately

by hobijam



Series: pill bottles [2]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, Mental Health Issues, Reunions, Schizophrenia, Sequel, baek is kinda an ass but he only has the best intentions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 10:56:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13902573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobijam/pseuds/hobijam
Summary: Sehun's been awake for two years and three months. Every night, he's dreamt of Jongin.The happy ending toGone In The Morning





	After I Have Known You So Very Intimately

**Author's Note:**

> please read [Gone In The Morning](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12734214) if you haven't already! this fic takes place two years and three months after the end of it! it's a short read, don't worry!  
> also: the title is inspired by a lyric from the song [norse truth by against me!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0_tvcWxyktI)  
> if you like punk you could give my girl laura jane grace a listen :)

Sehun steps outside. Really, truly, _outside_. Not the yard, surrounded by brick on all sides, with a small smoker’s bench and a run down variety of outdoor exercise installments. Not the brief breaths of freedom of a day pass out into the world. No. Sehun is Outside. The fact on its own merits the capital letter. He goes outside two years and three months after he’d first gone in the Boomerang Recovery Home, tied down with leather cuffs to an ambulance bed. It’s three days after Christmas, there’s snow on the ground and slush dripping off the roof, but it feels as good and magical as the first day of spring.

In the windows, the sallow faces of the other patients stare out at Sehun, waving their arms and offering rare smiles. Sehun’d been there the longest out of all of them, having the second-longest patient beat by about six month’s stay. He’s become, in his young age, some sort of mentor figure. Even the older patients had sought him out, looking for advice. He wasn’t big on talking, but was loved nonetheless. He felt at home, eventually, and found a friend that filled his time. Johnny- he’d gotten in a few months after Sehun, left about half a year before. He’d given Sehun his parent’s phone number, but Sehun isn’t too tied to him. Things change. They were good for each other when there was nothing to do but talk about their illnesses, but Sehun knows from experience that the friends made in psych wards, short or long term, are made more out of proximity necessity relations than out of actual connections.

But still. He’d found something at Boomerang, found himself maybe, as cliche as it sounds. Under his belt he has about two years of taking his pills, every morning and every night, more than two years of therapy, the same with classes on relationships, life skills, and acceptance. He’s even attended a few AA meetings, just for the hell of it.

He can’t put a name to the feelings that swirl around him right now. Leaving is an event. Out of thirty patients in the old brick hospital, they’re lucky to have one or two departures a month. Most of the patients are in for the long haul. Sehun included. He actually never expected to leave, never thought it was a possibility for him, that he would just become a permanent fixture of the building, like the old vinyl furniture, relics from the seventies. That is, until a few months ago, when the head psychiatrist mentioned that he could start looking at the ‘help wanted’ section of the censored newspapers that make their way through the hospital doors.

Sehun didn’t spend too much time on those- there was no way for him to call around and look for a job, anyways. The phones were for family only, and what would he say about his place of residence? That he’s in a long term psych ward? Not exactly a good job candidate.

But now… He’s out. With two suitcases and a backpack, all of his possessions in the world are tucked away, ready to be carried into whatever he faces next. Despite the cold, Sehun wants to walk, and slowly makes his way, dragging his suitcases through the snow. Boomerang’s nurses had insisted on calling him a cab, but he’d declined. He’s only got about forty dollars to his name, and needs that for the bus trip to his old hometown, and maybe a lunch that doesn’t come from the bulk stores of the budgeted hospital pantry. Maybe.

The bus stop is about half a mile down the road, next to an old convenience store run by a widower grandfather that Sehun knows only through spending the majority of his day passes there, smoking in a set of beat up lawn chairs and making conversation over Diet Cokes. Sehun’s toes feel frozen by the time he arrives and he debates on using some of his money to pick up a last pack of menthols, just for old times sake. The bus doesn’t come for another fifteen minutes, so he decides to justify the purchase, because who would he be to just stand in the convenience store for the furnace and not buy anything?

The grandfather’s eyes twinkle as he hands over the pack, insisting that the last on is on him. He’s always known that Sehun is from Boomerang. The hospital ( _‘recovery home’_ the nurses would insist) is just down the road, and nothing else is within walking distance. The convenience store and the hospital have existed in harmony for decades, probably under the care of the same grandfather.

“Where do you plan to go?” Grandfather asks, closing the guns and ammo magazine he’s flipping through. He’d mentioned once that he sincerely hates any kind of weapon, but it’s sent for free from wherever it comes and he’d feel bad throwing away the work of a tired journalist team without at least skimming through their efforts first.

“You know my friend Zitao?” Sehun asks, fiddling with the flap of the cigarette carton. Grandfather nods. “Haven’t been able to call him, but I think he’ll still be in the same place. He’ll share with me for a while, I trust.”

“Not Jongin?”

Grandfather had clung to every word Sehun spoke about Jongin, smiled over every apparently lovesick expression that had crossed his face at the mention of his… lover? Boyfriend? He’d never, in his two years and three months of talking about him, found the right word.

Sehun feels a bitter taste come into the back of his mouth at the mention of Jongin’s name. “He won’t want to see me. Grandfather, you remember- when I left for just a few weeks, he was ruined. Two years and three months is too long. He won’t want me back.”

Grandfather presses his leathery lips, folding the wrinkles around his mouth even deeper. “It’s true love, Sehun. You remember, too- my wife was abroad for a year and a half and we still loved each other.”

The same story again. Whenever Sehun got too caught up on Jongin, Grandfather had talked about his wife, and her trip to Spain. The gesture was appreciated, but the circumstances are so different that he doesn’t think there’s any means for comparison.

Sehun tries to form his words into a coherent argument against going back to Jongin, but Grandfather slaps his arm and forces a few candies into his palm. “Your bus is here. I don’t want to see your face again, son.”

Sehun smiles, softly. It’s something he’s gotten more used to doing. “Of course. Thank-“

“Don’t mention it.”

Grandfather helps Sehun load his belongings into the cargo of the bus, and he’s off. The bus trundles down the icy roads, covering miles of monotonous snowfields just to get to the city. Sehun dozes in and out of sleep during the time. He doesn’t have a phone, like the rest of the commuters, and left all his books to the other patients at Boomerang. They were too heavy to carry with him, and everyone is always looking for something beyond what the limited, censored library has in stock. Sehun’s books had been popular even before he’d left.

As expected, in between jolts of awareness he dreams of Jongin.

The dreams he dreams every night vary in length and intensity, but there’s always some trace of Jongin in them. Maybe, it’s just his brown hair, his retreating back as he walks around a corner in a summery neighborhood. Sometimes it’s his eyes, just his eyes. Other times it’s all of Jongin, wrapped up in Sehun and so, so beautiful. Sehun could never fall out of love with Jongin. Could never forget him, even without the dreams.

He wonders if Jongin dreams of him, too. If Jongin’s heart longs just as much as Sehun’s. Two years and three months is a long time. It sickens Sehun, but it’s a very real possibility that Jongin’s long moved on, found someone new to make him smile in that dopey way, to cook him breakfast and make him coffee in the morning that’s not too close to burnt like Sehun’s. Sehun couldn’t ever forget about Jongin. But sometimes, the dreams are nightmares. Jongin with someone else, Jongin crying, Jongin at Sehun’s hospital bed, helpless but to watch on as Sehun sleeps forever.

Luckily, all of Sehun’s dreams on this bus are half-lucid, and he shapes his world to be that of soft smiles and fleeting touches. He feels warmer when he wakes up, but as a side-effect, more alone than ever.

Zitao’s apartment is in a bad part of the urban center of the city. There’s not a lot of reliable busing there, despite its proximity to the bustling business district, so Sehun ends up walking most of the way. It’s dark by the time he arrives, and the neighborhood honestly scares him. Zitao once mentioned that he heard of a man getting stabbed just a block from his apartment complex, and Sehun can’t get the thought out of his head as he trudges through dirty snow and black ice to get to the place that Zitao, very realistically, might not be living in anymore.

There’s a quiet, broken-down courtyard Sehun walks through before he gets to Zitao’s. His apartment is on the second story, facing out to an open hallway-balcony that looks over the yard. The lights aren’t on, but Sehun tries knocking anyways. There’s the faint sound of television coming from behind the door, and Sehun knocks three times before heavy feet stumble down the short hallway to the front.

“I’ll have it by Thursday, Mrs. Cha-“ Zitao’s unmistakeable raspy voice, grainy from his chain-smoking habits and screaming in a punk band, sounds out before he fully shows himself through the opening door. He stops mid-sentence, eyes going wide as saucers, when he sees Sehun.

“Zitao.” Sehun tries to smile, but Zitao’s face is hard to smile at, right now, somehow.

“You’re dead.” Zitao finally says. “You’re dead, and I’m dreaming. What the fuck was in Kris’ weed-“ His hand shakes as it reaches out, and he pokes Sehun in the chest.

“I’m not dead.” Sehun grabs Zitao’s hand in both of his own, pressing it over his heart. “Is two years really long enough to think your best friend is dead?”

Zitao’s expression changes, and he drags Sehun and his belongings into the apartment, forces him down on the grungy couch. The tube television that came with the apartment crackles in the corner. Tears are quietly running down Zitao’s cheeks, and his lip is wobbly. He’s always been an ugly crier, and it’s only a matter of seconds before the dam breaks, and he collapses into Sehun’s chest, sobs shaking his back. “You were in the coma- your parents pulled the plug- how are you-? Sehun, you were dead for two years!”

“I woke up-“ Sehun begins, his head spinning. Had his parents not said anything? Let his best fucking friend believe he was dead for all this time? “Did they not- Zitao, I woke up the night before they were going to take me off life support.”

“I thought you were dead!” Zitao cries again. He buries his head deeper into Sehun, wrapping his long arms around his body. His tears soak Sehun’s jacket. “They let me think that you were dead!”

Something breaks off of Sehun’s heart in this moment, and he feels it travel through his body in a wave of heat. Something like anger, at his parents, maybe, but it dissolves into something warm. A soft kind of compassion, obviously not for his family, but more for Zitao. He can’t change what his parents did, the same parents that never visited him in the hospital, never made a plan for his departure. He just has to work on the present right now, and the present is getting Zitao to stop crying.

“I blamed myself you know. We hadn’t talked in a while, and I should have known you were off those damn pills… Sehun… God…”

Sehun shushes his best friend, and readjusts their bodies so that they can fit comfortably on the couch, snuggled up against each other. He spends hours talking with Zitao, waiting for the crying to subside and telling him everything that’s happened in his life, which had somehow seemed like so much but amounted to so little in the end. Who really cares what happens day to day in a psych hospital? The politics of the place are stupid when you finally escape the bubble of that world.

So Sehun listens to Zitao as well. Listens to him talk about how Sehun’s parents hadn’t said a word about him living, hadn’t planned to even let him see Sehun in the hospital. Sehun asks about Jongin, but Zitao doesn’t know. The last he’d seen of Jongin was when he gave him Sehun’s suicide note. Jongin had read it over, then quietly asked Zitao to leave. Zitao heard his screaming through the closed door, and then drove home.

They talk until they’re too tired to even keep their mouths moving, eyes long closed and bodies collapsed into each other. That night, of course, Sehun dreams of Jongin. But all he sees in this nightmare is Jongin reading his suicide note, crying and screaming, while Sehun can only look on through the plexiglass window of his bedroom at Boomerang.

 

—

 

Zitao calls in sick to his work the next few days, leading up to the new year. He insists on taking care of Sehun, doting on him with everything he can. Zitao, however, is also not very good at care-taking- he can barely take care of himself. His fridge is empty when Sehun arrives and he searches in the couch cushions too long just to find his wallet. Even when the boys do fill up the fridge, only one of the burners of Zitao’s stove works and neither of them know how to cook. Sehun feels pretty guilty about it, too, because if he cannot even pay for groceries, he should at least be able to cook something out of them, to pay Zitao back at least a fraction. The two settle on making some mediocre meals, looked up from those online sites where they put in the ingredients they have and get recipes that work with them.

Most of the time, Sehun listens. Zitao catches him up on his own life, the lives of his other friends that Sehun never knew too well, the state of the world around him. Boomerang had severely limited the current news that came in through the blacked-out newspapers, and the television only played DVDs. Sehun missed out on a lot while he was gone, not just with Zitao but with the rest of the world. He feels left out, and somewhat overwhelmed. Everything had just kept on moving, even without him in it. Even Zitao had kept on moving, changing, choosing to go back to community college instead of moving into a better neighborhood, among thousands of other things. Unnerving is the word. Sehun didn’t know what to expect, but being forgotten about so easily is doing something strange to him.

It’s the day after New Years when Zitao finally goes back to work, and Sehun is left alone for most of the day because Zitao is off of school and able to work full shifts. He struggles with himself for the entire morning, trying to decide if he should find Jongin or not. Everything, every atom in his body wants to go see Jongin, but some part in him is afraid. What if Jongin has moved on even more than Zitao? What if he’s gotten married? Moved out? What if he’s forgotten about Sehun entirely?

Sehun couldn’t give Jongin what he’d wanted when they were in a relationship. He’d found himself falling in too deeply, and feared, always feared, that he would hurt Jongin too much if they were too close when he finally killed himself. He’ll admit, at first he was just passing time with Jongin, getting a good lay every once and a while without strings attached. Had it been Sehun or Jongin to cast out the first line? Sehun doesn’t remember, but even if Jongin didn’t know, Sehun was tying himself up to Jongin just as much as the other way around. It was a dangerous game, one that would never work out the way it needed to. But Sehun had been too coward to be alone, too coward to leave Jongin so he could find something better than Sehun. Someone who could give Jongin back all the love he freely gave out. Someone who stuck around, didn’t hop in and out of the hospital psych ward. Someone that was entirely Not Sehun.

It’s past noon when Sehun finally grabs the bus card Zitao had left out for him and bundles up in his friend’s extra coat. The bus doesn’t run too often during the day in Zitao’s neighborhood, so he tucks his nose into his scarf and decides on walking, at least to the busier part of downtown. The buses run all day there, and thank God they do, because Jongin is on the borders of the suburbs, all the way across the city.

Sehun scans ZItao’s card after waiting for a beat at the bus stop, and files his way to the back row, heavy footed. He’s nervous, anxiety rolling in the pit of his stomach. What will happen? What will Jongin do? Could he react the same as Zitao, with shock? Or would it be something else? What if he just shuts the door in Sehun’s face, refuses to see him? Or maybe, a new man could open the door, someone who’s taken over Sehun’s place in Jongin’s life and filled it better.

Gritting his teeth, Sehun exits the bus one stop away from Jongin’s condo, needing the short walk in the winter air to snap out of his thoughts. The streets of Jongin’s neighborhood get more sunlight from between the low, two-story condos, and the snow piled up on the sides of the sidewalk is melting into slush on the pavement. Sehun nearly falls more than a few times.

When he gets to the condos, he doesn’t see too many cars parked across the driveway in the parking shelter, but continues on anyways. Zitao’s lights weren’t on, but he was still home, wasn’t he? He takes the stares two at a time to reach Jongin’s second floor, the tips of his fingers tingling with adrenaline.

It takes Sehun about two minutes of standing in front of Jongin’s door to actually work up the guts to knock. He holds his breath as the door opens and…

Quickly deflates. An old woman, ripe with liver spots and covered in the thin layer of peach fuzz that the elderly get, opens the door, chain lock on. “Who are you?” She asks, voice unfriendly. “I’m not going to buy anything.”

“I’m not here to sell you anything.” Sehun replies. “I was looking for… A friend. Sorry to bother you, I guess he’s moved out.”

Turning to leave, he barely hears the old woman speak, but he wishes he didn’t at all.

“Some friend, only checking in now. I’ve lived hear a year and a half…”

 

—

 

Sehun lays around the apartment for two days after his failed attempt at finding Jongin, barely noticing when Zitao comes and goes. He brings over a few friends at one point, two other punks in his small band named Kris and Lu Han. Sehun doesn’t really think that people who go by a) a fake name, and b) their full name, are all that chill to hang out with, so he just retreats into the room Zitao is sharing with him and fiddles with the flip phone Zitao had bought him at the 7/11 down the street.

He doesn’t have anyone to call other than some potential jobs he’s looking at. There’s not a lot going for Sehun in that department- schizophrenia had kind of taken over his life since its early onset while he was in high school. He’d barely scraped by with C grades, and not even applied to any colleges. He’d taken up a few jobs bellow minimum wage, but always ended up losing them whenever he went back to the hospital. He knows he doesn’t look too good on applications, and ends up searching his way through what seems like half the city.

There’s a diner just a few neighborhoods over from Zitao’s that’s hiring. It’s a fun, fifties-themed place, with milkshakes and jukeboxes. They’re looking for a bus boy, which Sehun’s already had experience in before. He figures it won’t hurt to try it out, and calls in for an interview.

He’s nervous the entire bus ride there, tapping his feet and flipping his phone open and shut, over and over again. He checks the address on his sticky note, glances at the street signs, checks it again… He arrives after a few more stops, and almost slips on some unsalted ice as he steps down from the bus. He’s just on time for the interview, which means he doesn’t have the time to work on his breathing or collect himself.

The diner is bright and warm on the inside, some fifties rock and roll playing over the speakers as a few scattered families finish up their late breakfasts. A curly-haired man, shorter and skinnier than Sehun with a name tag spelling, ‘Jongdae’ sidles up to the host’s table, propping his chin on his hand. “Jongdae. What can I do for you today? For one?”

“No, I’m here to talk to… Baekhyun Byun?” Sehun re-reads his sticky note, like he hasn’t already memorized every scribbled letter.

“Oh, you’re the applicant. Follow me.” Jongdae sing-songs as he practically sprints off through the small restaurant. He leads Sehun through the kitchen and into a small back office, taken up by a large metal desk and filing cabinet set. A smaller, brown haired man is sitting there, poring over some papers with lots of numbers on them. He looks up when Jongdae deposits Sehun on the chair behind his own, like he’d forgotten that Sehun was coming.

“Baekhyun Byun.” He says, standing and offering his hand to Sehun. “You’re Sehun?”

Sehun nods, sweaty hand curling around Baekhyun’s.

“So, Sehun, what makes you want to work here at Byunnie’s? Like the name, by the way?” Baekhyun asks, raising his eyebrows. His expression is a careful mask. He’s smart, Sehun can tell. He knows how to get people to do what he wants, knows how to read them- he’s one of the types that knows and relishes when he’s in control. It’s not a bad thing; Sehun thinks that Baekhyun is actually a very strong person for it, to give off this impression when they’ve just met.

“I have a lot of hospital bills to cover, actually.” Sehun says. It’s true- Boomerang had slapped a statement down on the check out desk, saying that his parents had stopped paying for about the last four months of his stay. Mental healthcare racks up the bills.

“Mind I ask what for?” Baekhyun asks. “Will there be any physical disabilities I have to take into account?”

“No-“ Sehun says, shaking his head. “I was just- It was a program. I suffer from mental illness, and I went somewhere to get better. A little more than two years.”

Baekhyun’s eyes narrow at the admission, and he scans Sehun up and down another time. Something gathers behind his expression, and Sehun feels suddenly very wrong. Like his skin is a loose suit that his body doesn’t quite fit into. “What did you say your last name was, again?” He asks carefully. His words are sharp.

“Sehun Oh.” Sehun responds just as cautiously. Before he can finish, a hand is around his throat and he’s being yanked off the chair. Baekhyun’s grip is unbreakable as he slams Sehun’s back against the wall of the office, hand dropping to fist in the collar of Sehun’s only dress shirt. Though Sehun has to look down his nose to see the considerably smaller man, he is all skin and bones. Baekhyun, it’s beginning to look like, spends some time at the gym.

“You stay away from here, _Sehun Oh_.” Baekhyun’s voice drips with malice. “I’d heard some friend of a friend, Zitao, had his buddy come back from the dead, but for it to be you…” Baekhyun shakes his head. His grip is white knuckled, and Sehun stands on his tip toes so the shirt doesn’t tear. “How did you even find him? He and Chanyeol moved out over a year ago. I blocked your number in his phone when a telemarketer took it over.”

“Him?” Sehun asks. He recognizes the name Chanyeol… Because Jongin… Wasn’t his best friend named Chanyeol? And Baekhyun… Knows Zitao, somehow? “Do you mean Jongin? Jongin Kim?” Sehun finally gasps out.

“Of fucking course I mean Jongin!” Baekhyun drops his fist from Sehun’s collar to throw his hands in the air. “Who else in the fucking world would it be?”

“Can I see him?” Sehun begs. “Do you know where he is?”  

“He works here-“ Baekhyun begins, “And no, you absolutely may not.” Sehun tries to get out the door, but Baekhyun reaches around him and locks the handle.

Turning back to face the man, Sehun looks on with hurt plainly written across his features. “But why-“

“Do you have any clue how much you fucked the kid up?” Baekhyun interrupts. “Jongin spent months- _years_ mourning you. He was a scraped out shell of himself for all that time- He almost died of malnourishment because Chanyeol and I couldn’t get him to eat! And now you come back like you have the right to waltz back into his life, when you hadn’t even told him you _lived_ for all this time?” Baekhyun’s face reddens, voice raising in pitch. “You can’t just do that. You fucked him over every time you didn’t reciprocate in whatever the hell you two had going on, then ripped out his heart when you died- but not really, as is apparent- I still don’t get how if you were alive you couldn’t fucking _send_ _word_. You don’t have the right to make him sad again. To come back into his life like you could actually ever belong there.”

Sehun feels tears prickling at the rims of his eyes, and his voice wavers when he speaks. “I’m better now, though…” He lamely says. “I fixed myself up, I won’t ever leave again-“

“He told me all about your ‘sickness.’” Baekhyun quotes the air, as if Sehun is doing this to himself, as if his schizophrenia isn’t real. “What makes this time different? You’re going to stop taking your meds, inevitably, and try to kill yourself or whatever the fuck you do to get sent back to the hospital, and Jongin’s going to regress in his life’s progress to the wreck he was three years ago. You just _can’t.”_

“I dreamed about him every night I was gone.” Sehun says, not quite knowing why he’s making the admission. “I’m still in love with him. I need to see him.”

“He’s not in love with you anymore.” Baekhyun boldly replies. He speaks with proud certainty. “You’re too late.”

Sehun’s back falls heavily against the door as he staggers for a moment. Baekhyun’s words hit him like a fist to the gut, forcing the air out of his lungs and brining stars into his vision. Jongin can’t- Jongin always waited for him… Jongin… Sehun at least has to see him, just once- He has to hear it from Jongin’s lips themselves that he’s really moved on. Just hearing it from Jongin, and Sehun can find closure.

“You will continue to be dead to Jongin.” Baekhyun demands, voice like a commanding officer. “I will not give you the job, obviously. I’m going to call all the neighbors that I know are hiring and tell them you tried to steal from me. Don’t try to be employed anywhere near here. Don’t try to contact him; this is your warning.”

Silently, Sehun watches Baekhyun. This man is fiercely protective. He obviously thinks he’s doing the right thing, and Sehun can’t tell if that’s the truth or not. Sehun liked to think he knew Jongin best. But that’s just it- _knew,_ in past tense. Baekhyun may as well be the one who knows him best, now, two and a half years later. And if Baekhyun can so resolutely assure Sehun that the only way to go is for him to stay entirely out of Jongin’s life… Sehun may just have to listen.

Baekhyun makes Jongdae check the restaurant before Sehun can leave the office. When the other man confirms that Jongin hasn’t arrived for his shift yet, Sehun is allowed to slip out the kitchen side door.

He wonders, sitting in the plastic bus seat on his defeated journey back to Zitao’s, if this is how Jongin felt, when they were whatever they were. Like Sehun was so close to him, but just one step away. One little wall of secrecy between them, one dam left to break. It’s a shitty feeling. Both, that he can’t see Jongin, and that this is how Jongin may have felt. Sehun wants to crawl into Zitao’s bed and sleep for days.

 

—-

Out of everything, a the family-owned hardware store across the street from the diner ends up calling Sehun back the day that he’d sent an email application from Zitao’s school laptop. Apparently, they had’t received a call from Baekhyun about whatever lies he would tell about Sehun. The couple that own the store are getting too old to spend full shifts there, and their only son is some sort of entrepreneur that makes enough to take care of them, but they don’t want to close the business.

So that’s where Sehun comes in. Learning the way around the small store is easy enough, and he figures that he can memorize where everything is after just a few days of stocking the shelves. For being in a rather urban area, the store gets a pretty good amount of customers.

He can’t believe that it’s right across the street from the diner. It’s pure luck, really, because Sehun hadn’t even checked the address too closely when he’d applied. Baekhyun would probably flay him. But the pay is decent, and he can watch through the windows… Jongin has no use coming into a hardware store. Sehun is safe… _Jongin_ is safe.

It’s easy to fall into a routine, where Sehun gets up around the same time as Zitao, the two share breakfast, and Zitao departs to either his morning shift at a drive through or his few morning classes. Sehun finishes before Zitao on the days he has school, and after him when it’s just work. The two of them have easy dinners, usually takeout, and then fall into Zitao’s cramped bed together, dead to the world until the next day.

Everything changes in this routine in about mid-January. It changes, _a lot_.

Because that’s when Jongin comes in. Right into the store, he passes right past Sehun at the checkout counter by the door. He comes from the diner across the street, marching straight into the hardware store with a strip of vinyl flooring in his hand and a determined look on his face.

Sehun watches in shock as Jongin’s wide back faces him, shoulders shifting as he sorts through some rolls of vinyl flooring. He doesn’t notice Sehun, not yet.

Something inside Sehun keeps him from speaking up. He’s suddenly deathly afraid of seeing Jongin, too scared of what Jongin might think of him after nearly two and a half years. Quickly, he wraps his scarf around his neck, covering the telltale scar by his jugular, and pulls out a face mask from an open box behind the counter.

When Jongin finally selects a design, some tacky fifties-era look, Sehun helps him cut out the right length. He does his best not to look at Jongin, or let the man see his face. Jongin doesn’t seem to notice the distance, and happily tries to make conversation about the diner across the street. He talks about Baekhyun, his boss and friend, and how Jongin works there while he’s trying to figure out what to do with his journalism degree. While they were moving one of the huge refrigerators to finally clean out the floor behind it, it tore up some of the flooring. Hence, Jongin picking out a small swatch of new vinyl.

It’s only when Sehun reaches the register to ring up Jongin’s purchases that he dares glance up. It’s a mistake. Jongin is more beautiful than Sehun’s ever seen him, a glow under his skin despite it being the dead of winter. His lips are curled into a friendly smile, eyes bright, but all of that fades in an instant, while the same eyes search over Sehun’s face.

“Se-“

“$27.35 please.” Sehun says, interrupting Jongin. He does his absolute best to not let anything slip through, show on his face.

“R-Right.” Jongin shakes his head in the sweet way he does, as if he’s trying to physically shake a thought out of his brain. “I’m sorry, you look like someone I used to know. Are you sick, or something?” He points to his own face, meaning to ask why Sehun’s wearing a mask and scarf indoors.

Sehun nods, not able to respond past the lump quickly forming in his throat. He’s someone Jongin _used_ to know. Used to, because to Jongin, he’s long dead. He doesn’t know if he’s grateful or sad that Jongin doesn’t recognize him by just his eyes. His eyes that Jongin had stared into so often for so long.

Sehun continues to stare at Jongin, trying to memorize the features of his face that are so familiar, but just slightly different now. He looks… happier. It makes Sehun a little sick to realize this, that Jongin looks happier than he ever did when he and Sehun were… not-quite-dating, but more than just fuck buddies as well.

Uncomfortable with the attention, Jongin pulls out a credit card with the name _Baekhyun Byun_ signed on it in neat cursive. Sehun can’t ever ditch that man, it seems. “It’s my boss’s card.” He says. “You can call the diner if you want, but I hope you can just let me use it.”

Sehun does his duty and scans the card, asking Jongin, in a pitched voice, to forge Baekhyun’s signature so it will at least look like Sehun doesn’t know it’s not Jongin’s card.

“Good luck.” Sehun says as Jongin walks out the door. Jongin’s shoulders are more slumped than when he came in, and his face is drawn and tired. He waves a hand in thanks, and the hardware store descends into quiet.

Sehun moves mechanically through the rest of the day, not really thinking about anything as he works. There’s never really much to do at the hardware store because he and the Choi couple keep it clean and organized, so there’s nothing to do other than the minute details. Usually, Sehun just reads one of Zitao’s textbooks rom the previous year. He’s on the abnormal psychology one now, which Zitao had colored at the mention of. He’d taken the class in Sehun’s memory, he said. He wanted to understand what could have been going through his dead best friend’s head.

He can’t get his thoughts off of Jongin. Why hadn’t he said anything? Why did he let Jongin look at him and be sad, reminded of the man he thought he lost two and a half years ago? Sehun feels cruel, and has half a mind to get dinner at the diner just to try and see Jongin again, to make up with him, kiss him, hug him, _anything_.

The doorbell jingles as Sehun is bent over a tub of nails, sorting out the screws that had fallen in from the shelf above. Suddenly, a strong hand grabs him by the back of the shirt and yanks him out of his squat, knocks his back against the wall. The hand repositions itself to grab Sehun by the collar of his uniform vest, and he finds himself looking down his nose at none other than Baekhyun Byun.  

“Why do you always choke me out?“

“You always do something to merit it.” Baekhyun growls. “Sehun Oh, you saw Jongin.”

Cautiously, Sehun nods. He feels dread collect in the pit of his stomach. He tries to disentangle Baekhyun’s fingers from the front of his uniform, but gives up when the grip only tightens.

“Jongin came into my diner after coming here looking like he was aged at least three years.” Baekhyun says. “He said to me, he met someone who looked just like the man he’s never gotten over. Looked just like the man that scraped his heart out of his chest and left him empty for two and a half years. He thought it was just coincidence, because Jongin’s man is long dead… But,” Baekhyun continues, gesturing with his free hand. “Jongin doesn’t know about our interview. About how you are at least a little bit still alive.”

Sehun licks his lips, interjecting, “I didn’t tell him anything. I swear I didn’t even say my name. He asked me for a split second, and I turned him down.”

“Leave.” Baekhyun says flatly. “He’s _just_ starting to lift his head up. To see the world for the beautiful thing it is. The sadness that _you’ve_ tainted him with for all this time is beginning to fall away. You can’t bring that back into his life.”

Every word serves to poke a nail through the muscle of Sehun’s heart, ripping into him like fishhooks, tearing at his soul.  

“Find a job somewhere else.” Baekhyun finally commands, after staring up at Sehun with a searching gaze. He must see what he wants, that Sehun is intimidated, hurt, because he lets go of his collar and wipes his hand on his black apron. “If I hear Jongin talking about seeing you again, I’ll find you.”

Baekhyun stalks out of the store, greeting someone at the door of his diner across the street. Sehun can hear his bubbling laugh from all the way over at the hardware store, and marvels at how quickly the man’s demeanor can change.

Sehun grinds his teeth. He can’t help but side with Baekhyun, against his heart. If everything the man is saying is true… then he really does have to leave. If Jongin is finally over him, finally past his grief… It will do nothing to bring up such a great past trauma as… Really, as Sehun’s entire existence in his life takes the shape of.

He moves through the remainder of the shift, just another hour, feeling numb.

 

—

 

Sehun tries to find a new job, searches all over the help pages and even goes into various shops to inquire if they could possibly take another person. His spotty history seems to beat him out every time. He’s got a few lined up in his back pocket that he can take- one loading trucks, another cleaning meat at a butcher’s on the outside of town. Both, he’d prefer to avoid.

But he takes Baekhyun’s request (command) seriously. Baekhyun probably knows Jongin best, as he is now, at least, and therefore has the best idea of what Jongin needs. And if what Jongin needs is to continue his recovery, continue to live without Sehun in his life… Sehun might have to settle for it. Above everything else, he wants Jongin to be the happiest he can be. Maybe, having Sehun in his life again just won’t do that for him.

Sehun finally breaks through when he finds a dog shelter in one of the suburban areas, closer to Jongin’s old apartment. He remembers, faintly, Jongin talking about volunteering there. However, for Sehun, they’re offering slightly above minimum wage, all for him to spend time with the dogs, clean up after them, and feed them twice a day. He won’t even have to do adoption paperwork, because that’s reserved for the people that get paid a little more for the office work. It’s a Godsend, he’d like to believe. Someone is watching out for him, taking just a little bit more care with him.

His first few days go well. He fits in well with the staff, the work isn’t too hard and he actually finds himself enjoying his time. Lifting the food bags hurt his back a little bit, and the dogs really stink sometimes, but it’s rewarding to see some of the more skittish dogs come a little closer to him every day.

There’s one dog that really sticks with Sehun. If he and Zitao weren’t so busy, and barely making enough for themselves, this dog would come home with Sehun for sure. His name is Vivi, and he’s a small white thing that came in the day Sehun first worked. He was covered from head to toe in mud, stuck in clumps to his fur. He’d tried to bite Sehun when he’d picked him up to wash, and Sehun had fallen just a little bit in love.

Vivi is quickly becoming his best friend, other than Zitao. Sehun usually winds up spending his extra time with the little white dog, sitting down by his kennel and talking to him as if he were human. Vivi listens like a human, too. He stares Sehun in the eyes when he speaks, groans and barks along with what he’s saying. Sehun tells Vivi whatever is on his mind. A lot of it is about Jongin.

Sehun’s talking to Vivi one day, probably two or three weeks in to his time on the job, when he’s interrupted by his boss coming out onto the kennel floor. He’s only seen the woman once since he’s worked here. For the boss of an animal shelter, she doesn’t seem too fond of the animals.

“Sehun Oh?” She asks.

With a sickening feeling in his stomach, Sehun stands up, making his way over to his boss. “That’s me, Mrs. Hong.”

“There’s a man in the front, asking for you. Chanyeol Park, I think is his name. He says it’s urgent.”

Chanyeol Park… Sehun wracks his brain. Chanyeol Park is Jongin’s friend. The one Baekhyun mentioned all those times. Could Baekhyun be going through with his threat to ‘find Sehun?’ He hasn’t even gone to Jongin’s side of the city! Hasn’t dared!

“I don’t know a Chanyeol Park.” He says. “He’s mistaken.”

Mrs. Hong pauses, gauging Sehun’s reaction. She must see the little streak of fear, uncertainty, because she says, “He told me to mention this was about Jongin Kim.”

Sehun’s stomach drops to the floor, and he doesn’t feel his feet when they start to move. Quickly, he peels off his apron and exits the kennel, making his way down the hallway, past the adoption rooms and the other animals, to reach the front. A strikingly tall, bow-legged man is waiting for him, dressed like a teenager in an Adidas tracksuit and bucket hat. His ears bend out under the sides of the hat, making him look even more childish than his shocked expression at seeing Sehun.

“I’m Sehun.” He says simply, looking Chanyeol up and down. Truthfully, he’s a little intimidated by the man’s size, and wants to look like he doesn’t care. Like he could take on Chanyeol if he really had to. Because, like Baekhyun said- he could find Sehun. This could be one of his ways.

“Chanyeol.” The man says, offering a hand. Sehun doesn’t take it, eyeing the hand like it’s a weapon. “Right. Uh, anyways, I’m one of Jongin’s friends. I didn’t stalk you, I swear. Baekhyun knows this guy Lu Han who knows this guy Tao who told me where to find you. I might have lied to him about why, though.” Chanyeol gestures wildly while he speaks, hands sweeping the air. “Baekhyun was talking to me about you. About how he wanted Jongin to be kept in the dark about you being alive.”

“If you’re here to threaten me, I haven’t even stepped foot in your diner’s neighborhood.” Sehun crosses his arms. “Are we done? I’m busy feeding the dogs.” A lie.

“Look, I’m sorry, but I think this is something you’ll want to hear. At least, part of it. The second part.” Chanyeol looks around the lobby. “Is there somewhere we can go?”

“I’ll take my break.” Sehun finally sighs, leading Chanyeol to the employee lockers. He pulls out his phone and a crumpled pack of menthols, stepping out into the winter cold and lighting up just as quickly. Chanyeol stares at the cigarette in Sehun’s fingertips, so he tilts the box towards the man.

“No, I actually quit.” Chanyeol finally says. “Jongin asked me to.”

“He asked me to, too.” Sehun taps the ash to fall onto the ice on the ground. “And I did, for a long time. I just needed something when I was gone, I guess.”

“I’ll skip over the first part for now, go straight to the second.” Chanyeol announces, derailing that line of thought. “You should get ready to quit smoking again, because _I_ think you should see Jongin.”

Sehun almost drops the cigarette then and there, eyes going wide like a kid on Christmas. “You think- You’d let me-“

“Yes, but it’s not ‘cause I’m a saint or anything.” Chanyeol placates Sehun with heavy hand on the shoulder. “This is the first part: He’s sad again.”

Sehun stares at the ground, a sinking feeling of knowing why settling inside of him. “Why?”

“You know why.” Says Chanyeol. “He saw you. He couldn’t stop ruminating in it. He moped around the diner for days, staring at the goddamn hardware store. I honestly think he’d forgotten about you, in the best way possible, until then. Like when you tuck away a paper in your back pocket, and it folds enough so you can’t feel it anymore. I think… He’d moved on, but then saw you… Or, as of right now, someone he thinks just looks like you… And it all came back.” Chanyeol squeezes Sehun’s hand, forcing the abandoned cigarette to fall where he can crush the butt with his boot. Sehun didn’t notice, but it had burned down to the filter, dangerously close to burning his fingers.

Stressed as hell, Sehun pulls out another. Chanyeol will just have to deal with the smoke. “So you want me to see him to, what, exactly. Is it one time? I don’t think I can do one time… If I see him, if I touch him even once, I know I’ll have to stay.”

“That’s my idea, too.” Chanyeol nods. “I haven’t been talking to Baekhyun for a while. He and I are butting heads over this, and it feels like we’re trying to play parent to Jongin. Like the warring mother and father. I just couldn’t deal with that mess and when I realized what it looked like… I believe that he should be able to make the choice. It isn’t my, Baekhyun’s, or even your own job to shelter him. He’s twenty four. He can choose to have you in his life or not when he sees you.”

“Baekhyun won’t kill me?” Sehun considers.

“I’ll make sure of it. No one can soften him like I can.” Chanyeol winks. “So, will you come with me?”

Sehun grimaces. “Now? I still have three hours left…” Every fiber in his body wants to drop his work apron and run across the city to the diner, burst through the doors and tackle Jongin to the floor. It’s taking all his willpower to not let his hands shake with this want when he brings the cigarette to his lips.

He’s vibrating with energy while he finishes the last of his shift. Chanyeol decides that since he drives, he’ll just stay in the area, after he checks out the cats of course. It’s a little funny to Sehun to see someone so large hold something so small as a cat, but he shouldn’t laugh, because he himself is almost as tall as Chanyeol. He leaves the man alone after a while, working double-time to finish faster, and gets out all the food and sweeps out the kennels in record timing. He clocks out a gracious fifteen minutes early when his boss sees his rush, and falls into Chanyeol’s large, ugly box of a car.

Chanyeol drives fast, using the highway that the bus never takes to cut straight through the city, no stops. He looks at Sehun from the corner of his eye every once and a while, and finally says, “I used to hate you, you know. I saw what effect you had on Jongin’s psyche, the codependency, the difference in him between when you were gone and when you were back, however brief. It was easy to hate someone who turned my best friend into such a sad creature. But that’s it. A used-to.”

Sehun frowns. It seems like all of Jongin’s friends hate him. Maybe they aren’t wrong in it, though. Sehun meets Chanyeol’s eyes in a brief glance his way. “Why don’t you, anymore?” He asks.

“I believe in redemption.” Chanyeol says, switching the radio to some synth pop station. He hums along to the upbeat song for a moment before continuing: “I’m an ex-con.” He admits, throwing Sehun for a loop with the unexpected admission. Sure, Chanyeol’s big, but he looks like a kid, even if he’s older than Sehun. He behaves like one, even. For chrissakes, he’s humming along to NSYNC and waving a hand around, dancing.

“Yeah, I know.” Chanyeol looks over to Sehun’s surprised facial expression. “Basically, I dealt drugs for a while to cover some bills and got caught with an bag full of pills and coke. I spent… a year and seven months, about.” He winks. “Good behavior.”

Sehun doesn’t know how to take in this information, but tries to listen anyways.

“Oh, ‘why am I telling you this?’” Chanyeol laughs. “The first part: I’m not ashamed. I made a mistake and learned from it. The second: Baekhyun is the one who gave me a second chance. No one was gonna employ me, especially while I was on probation, so even though he had stopped talking to me when I started dealing, he gave me a job when I came to him after. A second chance, even when I didn’t deserve it.”

Chanyeol pauses, and points out his favorite lyrics on the song playing. “ _‘It ain’t no lie, baby bye bye bye,’_ Love that. Anyways. It doesn’t sit right with me to judge you on your past mistakes like that. Because you did time, in a way, just like me. At whatever facility you said you went to, right? I guess being like, schizophrenic is different than making the choice to deal drugs, but we both ended up learning for ourselves and improving. I just empathize with you, man. I want things to go good for you and Jongin and I think that you being happy too plays a just role in that.”

Sehun… doesn’t know what to say. Strangely, he’s touched by these words from an unlikely ally in Chanyeol, but he doesn’t really know what makes it get to him so much. He contemplates Chanyeol’s words for the rest of the ride, allowing the other to sing along to his early 2000’s pop hits in peace.

 

—

 

Sehun thinks he’s going to throw up. His stomach is tightening and loosening, rolling in his gut like shifting stones. His head feels dizzy and his vision is shaky. He’s so, so nervous. Sitting at the barstool along the counter of the diner, Sehun tries to listen to Jongdae, the waiter, talking, distracting, but he just can’t. The words go in one ear and out the other.

He’s really going to see Jongin. It’s really going to happen.

Sehun shot a quick text from his flip phone to Zitao in Chanyeol’s car, saying he’d be home late. He doesn’t know how his best friend feels about his situation with Jongin, so he kept quiet about it.

It’s… going to happen. After more than two years, the man he dreamed about every night will stand in front of Sehun. But that’s not so simple- Sehun doesn’t know anything, doesn’t have the slightest clue as to how Jongin will react. He doesn’t know whatever new self Jongin’s become in the two years they’ve been apart. Doesn’t know if Jongin still cries about cute dogs or wears the sweatpants Sehun gave him, or if he’s lost his ability to cry and long gotten rid of the sweats, like all of his memories of Sehun. It’s a great, looming variable in an equation Sehun already doesn’t understand.

Chanyeol, who comes in with Sehun, bustles off towards the kitchens, saying the two are lucky that Jongin isn’t out on the floor and is probably doing dishes in the moment. It will give Chanyeol a chance to talk to him first, to gauge his reactions and possibly yell a warning to Sehun if Jongin grabs a knife. Not that Sehun thinks that’s even a remote possibility; Chanyeol was the one that jokingly suggested it.

All the sudden, there’s a resounding crash from the kitchen, the sound of water pouring over the floor. A strangled yell, some sort of animalistic cry, echoes out of the room, chilling Sehun. It’s Jongin’s voice, warped with something unrecognizable. Jongin knows. Chanyeol’s just told him.

Sehun holds his breath, tense as the swinging door to the kitchen flips open. Jongin stands stock still in the doorway, Chanyeol hovering anxiously behind him. He looks like a lost child, desperately searching for his mother’s skirt. He’s in unfamiliar waters, a tiny boat in a sea of emotion.

“Se… hun?” Jongin rasps out, unmoving. “ _Sehun?!”_ He doesn’t make even the slightest movement. Chanyeol’s hands flutter over his shoulders, unsure if he should step in. Jongdae stares from beside Sehun.

“Jongin.” Sehun can barely find his voice. He looks so beautiful. His eyes and skin are impossibly bright, full of life and feeling. His hair’s been cut and groomed, his clothes are pressed despite being stained from the days work, a faint line of sweat glistens at his hairline… Sehun feels like he’s seeing a new part of Jongin. A side of him that’s flourishing, living fully. He’s no longer stuck in the limbo of whatever he and Sehun had, able to live for himself, live healthily.

Silently, Jongin paces over to Sehun, finally finding the courage to get nearer. Without pretense, he grabs the sides of Sehun’s face with his palms, and for one euphoric moment, Sehun thinks Jongin will kiss him. However, Jongin stops just shy of his lips, instead staring deeply into his eyes. “You’re… alive?” The words are whispered, just for the two of them.

Sehun doesn’t know what he can do. Is he allowed to close the gap, brush his lips against Jongin’s? Is he allowed to fit his hands over Jongin’s, bring them to feel his beating heart? It seems like with any sudden movement, the world around the two of them will shatter, sucked into a black hole of shame and guilt that festers inside of Sehun. So Sehun stays still, breath mingling with Jongin’s.

“I woke up before… Before they could pull the plug.” Sehun chokes for a moment, and struggles. “Jongin, I’m so sorry.”

Sehun blinks, and feels hot tears streak down his face. He feels two and a half years of guilt, anticipation, love, fear- all of it, forcing it’s way out of his body in waves of emotion. When Sehun’s eyes adjust, clear, he sees Jongin, just as tearful and overwhelmed.

“You’re alive…” Jongin repeats, an amazed look on his face. “Sehun Oh, you’re _alive!”_

Jongin sounds overjoyed at just the idea, but guilt drags Sehun’s mood down. He hasn’t said what he needs to say, needs to make Jongin understand. “Jongin, listen to me- listen to me-“ Sehun reaches around Jongin’s arms to grab his face just like Jongin’s grabbing Sehun’s, pulling him in impossibly closer. “I never knew you didn’t know I woke up. I never knew I would get to see you again. It doesn’t excuse anything though. I was horrible even before the coma… Jongin, I am so, so, sorry.”

“That’s okay!” Jongin tearfully smiles. “I swear it’s okay- you’re back- oh my God, you’re back- that’s all that matters!” Jongin breaks the silence, dropping his hands from Sehun’s face to pull him into a hug. Sehun feels tears dampen the shoulder of his shirt, and briefly worries about smelling like dog food. When he blinks, a tear slides down his cheek. He’s… crying too. Jongin is here, Jongin forgives him- this is what Sehun’s dreamed about for so long. Jongin, back in his arms.

Looking up for a brief moment, Sehun sees both Chanyeol and Jongdae dabbing at their eyes. A shorter, stocky man has joined them and looks on with a half smile, while beside him- Baekhyun. He’s fuming, neck tinged pink and hands clenching. Sehun swallows heavily and releases his hold on Jongin to glance back at Baekhyun. He storms up to Sehun and Jongin, and situates himself in between the two considerably larger men like a one-man brick wall.

“You can’t just _forgive_ him, Jongin!” Baekhyun says, voice a little bit shrill. “After everything he’s done to you? Don’t be a pushover! That’s _he_ wants! He’ll just do it all again!”

Jongin looks hurt at the words, and Sehun feels the need to protect him from Baekhyun, just like how Baekhyun feels the need to protect him from Sehun.

Baekhyun turns to face Sehun. “And you! I never said you could come into _my_ diner and upset my employee, my friend- you just-!”

“Chanyeol said-“ Sehun weakly begins to respond. He feels like he’s being scolded by a parent. At least Baekhyun’s hands are not around his neck this time.

“‘ _Chanyeol said…_ ’” Baekhyun imitates. “I don’t care. You don’t belong here and you don’t belong with Jongin. Leave, now.”

Sehun glances back at Chanyeol, who’s shuffling his feet quietly. Catching Sehun’s eye, he opens his mouth, closes it, and then opens it again. “Baek, Jongin’s twenty-four… You can’t make these decisions for him anymore. I know we took care of him when he was really hurting, and that Sehun did some awful stuff, but just like Jongin’s had two and a half years to recover, Sehun’s had two and a half years to improve himself. Can’t you just let Jongin do what he wants? Sure, go ahead and strangle Sehun if Jongin wants you to-“

Sehun’s eyes shoot to Baekhyun, who smiles slightly, and then Jongin, wide-eyed and shaking his head, no.

“-But if Jongin wants to give it another go, as only friends or otherwise with Sehun, it’s not our job to say no to him.” Chanyeol finishes. Jongdae seems to nod his agreement, and the other man with them just watches Sehun’s face, gaze steady and searching.

Jongin changes courses, and instead of trying to stay as close to Sehun as he can, he stands in front of Baekhyun, holding the older man’s hand. “Listen, Baekhyun, if it was two years ago, it would be different. I was still wounded then, and Sehun was probably struggling just as much, and sure, I would have let you keep him out of my life.” Jongin says, picking up Baekhyun’s hands and playing with his fingertips in a familiar way. “But I- we- have had two and a half years, almost, to heal. And it’s not perfect; he’s still sick despite the medicines, and I’m still hurt over what he did, but I want to try again. You let Chanyeol try again after he got out- why can’t Sehun try again?”

Baekhyun grinds his jaw, shifting it from the left to the right, angular jawline jutting out on each side. Finally, he crosses his arms and fixes Sehun with a level stare. “If Jongin ever comes to me crying again, you’re gone five minutes later.”

Sehun nods eagerly, thanking Baekhyun without really registering the threat because _Jongin._ Baekhyun will let him be with Jongin. Jongin will let him back into his life. This is everything Sehun could have asked for and more- God, he has _Jongin_ again!

Quickly, Jongin pulls Sehun away from his friends, towards one of the booths. It’s a little more private that way, with the walls surrounding three sides of the booth protecting the two from outside eyes. He forces Sehun into one of the vinyl benches and then crams himself into the same one, forgoing sitting across the table from him like a normal person would.

Jongin stares at Sehun for a long stretch of time, as if he’s memorizing his face, mapping out the changes two and a half years in a psychiatric hospital has done to him. His eyes are soft and still somewhat teary, thick lips pulled into a half smile. A fond sort of look, one full of nostalgia.

“What happened to you?” He finally asks the big question.

“I woke up.” Sehun says simply. “Zitao told me he talked to you- after- before- …How much did he say?”

“Not much…” Jongin replies. He looks down sheepishly. “I didn’t want to talk to him when I realized he knew so much more about you than I did. He gave me your suicide note and that’s the last I wanted to see of him.”  

Sehun nods. “Lines up with what he told me.” He pauses, looking around the diner to see if anyone’s listening. Chanyeol and Jongdae have gone back to work, Jongdae waiting tables while Chanyeol, as well as the other man that hadn’t introduced himself bang around in the kitchen. Baekhyun glowers at Jongin and Sehun from across the dining room, sifting through some paperwork that he probably didn’t want to go through in the cave of his office.

“I woke up, the night that my parents were going to pull the plug on me.” Sehun says. Jongin’s mouth falls open a little bit. “Before I even knew what was happening I was put into a secure transport and brought to a place called Boomerang, a few hours away. It’s a psych ward, pretty much, but in an old brick house and _way_ more long term. I was one of the super seniors, eventually, because most people leave at about the year, year and a half mark… I just… What do you want to know? There’s not a lot to tell,  truthfully. I just spent the time in therapy and coloring mandalas.”

“Not a lot to tell- Sehun, this is two and a half years of your life- How did you feel? What did you do all that time? What did they do to you?“

“I dreamt of you every night.” Sehun interrupts quickly. “ _That’s_ how I felt. I was hopelessly in love with you and I spent two and a half years waiting to see you.”

He breathes in deeply, watching Jongin’s face carefully. Something passes over him, and he adopts a careful, neutral expression. His eyes meet Sehun’s and he takes a shaking breath.

“Was?”

Sehun laughs to himself, having already dug himself into a hole where he can only admit the truth. Jongin may not love him. Jongin may never have ever loved him. But now, Sehun has to say it. There’s no going back. “Still am.” He finally admits. “I’m still in love with you, Jongin Kim.”

A tear slides down Jongin’s cheek, and he’s crying again. “I’ve waited years to hear that. Even before you were gone, I’d been waiting.”

“Don’t leave me hanging, then.” Sehun finds it in himself to joke.

Jongin smiles. “I love you, too.”

 

—-

 

“Where are you staying?” Jongin asks. Midway through his and Sehun’s first conversation, Jongdae had brought them a basket of french fries, and he drags one of the last ones through a messy pile of ketchup.

“Zitao’s.” Sehun says. “I’ve got about three hundred dollars to my name right now and he’s been gracious enough to take care of me.”

Jongin crinkles his nose at that. Sehun supposes, after everything, that Jongin might not like Zitao too much. He’s only ever had negative memories to associate with him, too. “Chanyeol and I are still living together. Jongdae’s taken over the couch for now but we can kick him out, if you-“  

“Let him keep it.” Sehun interrupts. Something in him is scared of staying with Jongin. Like he’s moving too fast. Even though their relationship has been longer than three years in the making, it still seems too new and too sudden to even think of living with Jongin, whether it be out of necessity or by choice. It feels like… there’s a fragile state of equilibrium right now, as he and Jongin talk, but it could break at any time. Doing something so sudden as moving in with Jongin… That would surely upset it. Even break it.

Jongin looks a little hurt for a moment, but recovers just a s quickly. “That’s fine. I’m sure you’re comfortable at Zitao’s. Do you want to… I don’t know. What time is it?”

Sehun checks his flip phone, reading out with a start that it’s almost ten at night, and Jongdae has been bustling around the two of them trying to clean up for closing. He and Jongin pitch in for the last half hour or so, mopping the floors and stocking the kitchen. Chanyeol apparently enjoys doing dishes, so he works on those after he’s shut down his grill. More of his early 2000’s synth pop plays over the diner’s speakers, and his deep voice rumbles along to it as he works.

Sehun eventually meets the other man, the one with the shaved head and intimidating expression. He’s a hesitant figure at first, barely holding his hand out for Sehun to shake while he introduces himself as ‘Kyungsoo.’ Soon enough, though, his careful distance melts away, and Sehun can see him smiling a bright, pearl-toothed grin as he messes around with Chanyeol, Jongdae, and Jongin.

Thankfully, Baekhyun’s pulled his, ‘I’m the boss’ card and gone home early. Sehun knows he’ll have to get used to the man at some point, because he’s one of Jongin’s closest friends, but still. He’s a little freaked out by Baekhyun, and wants to keep some distance when it’s available.

Jongin assures him that Baekhyun will come around, eventually. He says that Baekhyun is one of his best friends, other than Chanyeol, and that he’s just too caring. He doesn’t know when to stop and doesn’t know when he’s overstepping his bounds. Fiercely protective, is the word. Sehun can’t wait until that time comes. Jongin works and plays with these four men, and even lives with two of them.

Jongdae is nice enough. He’s undeniably loud, and a bit whiney, but he makes up for it in his quick, witty one-liners and sharp tongue. His running commentary between himself and Kyungsoo, who is even more sharp-witted and point-blank, is one of the most hilarious conversations Sehun’s heard in a while. He’s funny as hell, and Sehun notices that he’s laughing differently at Jongdae than he’s been laughing for the past two and a half years at Boomerang. It’s more fulfilling. That’s the idea. He feels a bubbling warmth in his chest around these men, a type of feeling that overflows inside of him and spills out in his smiles, laughter, words. It’s like a piece of their happiness has embedded itself in Sehun.

Back at Boomerang, there was always something to laugh at, if a patient was up for it. There was the running joke of mispronouncing basic words after one poor patient spelled ‘cheese’ as ‘chesse’ on the food wishlist. There were fashion shows where patients strutted down the halls in the torn up paper clothes they’d been admitted in. One patient had even been learning stand-up comedy by the end of his time there. But the laughter… It’s different, in a psychiatric hospital. It’s the forced sound of broken people trying to make themselves feel something. It’s not _real._ There’s not happiness behind it, maybe amusement, but it’s most likely just an attempt at filling the silence. Maybe, if you laugh enough, force your face into a smile, you’ll be able to feel it for real one day. _That’s_ psych ward laughter.

It’s beyond refreshing to have escaped from that. Sehun’s shoulders seem to be getting lighter and lighter, recently.

He and Jongin, along with the rest of the men, get out and lock up the diner at eleven. There’s plans to go to a bar by Jongin and Chanyeol’s condo, and Sehun agrees without thinking. He wants to spend as much time with Jongin as he possibly can. They load up into two cars: Chanyeol, Jongin, Jongdae, and Sehun all into Chanyeol’s boxy monstrosity, and Kyungsoo into his own ancient stingray. He doesn’t drive his friends anymore, not since Jongdae spilled an obnoxious amount of caramel frappucino over his dashboard.

Jongdae gleefully takes front seat when Jongin offers it to him, and Jongin smiles softly as he slides into the back bench with Sehun. They both look ahead, listening on to some Britney Spears, when Sehun feels a warm hand brush the back of his. Surprised, he looks over at Jongin, who keeps looking ahead passively. Sehun hesitantly takes the hand in his own, and Jongin’s lips curve upwards, just a bit.

 

—

 

Sehun can’t drink. His doctor at Boomerang had been adamant about that from the day he got in to the day he left. Seroquel is dangerous with alcohol, and not only does it physically hurt his body, but it can mess up his mental state, too. So, like the only underage friend that he used to be, years ago, Sehun sips on the rim of a 7up as he watches Jongin and his friends with envy.

Jongdae and Chanyeol are quickly on the way to being drunk, having each snuck in about three shots of whiskey between their beers. Kyungsoo has been working on the same rum and coke since they got here, and Jongin’s worked past the masculine jeering of his friends and finished two fruity cocktails. It’s got him just the slightest bit inebriated, just enough to see roses in his cheeks and make his breath hot against Sehun’s ear when he leans in too close to talk to him. The bar isn’t even that loud, more of a place for workers to come to unwind than a club to get wild in, and Sehun realizes that Jongin’s leaning in on purpose.

Conversation drifts over to Sehun a few times, Chanyeol especially asking him about his life and what he’s done. Sehun smiles politely every time, and gently diverts the subject. Just because they know he was in a hospital, doesn’t mean that he has to disclose everything about it. He supposes, two and a half years ago he would have been mad at Jongin for revealing this much about him to strangers, but now he can only accept it. Jongin was devastated. Of course he was going to tell his friends about the fucked-up relationship that took over his life for that time.

When the men get into some inside joke, and Sehun can’t follow their drunken giggles for the life of him, he quietly excuses himself to the bathroom. Going down the hall, though, he sees his coat on a hanger, right next to the back door. He picks it up and swings it over his shoulders, instantly locating the pack of menthols in his breast pocket and fishing a lighter out of his jeans.

The night air is probably below freezing. It’s the end of February now, when, in Sehun’s opinion, the weather is the absolute coldest. Without fail, there’s a storm every February. It hasn’t come yet, but Sehun can feel the shift in the air, the calm before.

He lights up and sits down on the step, staring at the alleyway in front of him. He supposes he should be happier than he is right now, because, duh, _he has Jongin back,_ But something is pulling down the corners of his mouth. There’s some level of uncertainty, the feeling that he’s dropped himself into something greater than he can comprehend. Jongin may not think it, but Sehun knows he’s so, so fragile right now.

Sehun watches the smoke billow out of his mouth, whiter because of the crystals his breath makes in tandem. He’s in such a dangerous place with Jongin now. He doesn’t think he could live with himself were he ever to hurt Jongin again, even the slightest. What he’s been waiting for for so long has become scary now that he’s thrust into it. He holds Jongin’s happiness in his hands now.

Love, he guesses, is a heavy burden.

With a creak, the metal back door opens behind him, and Sehun looks up to see Jongin, goosebumps on his arms as he shuts the door behind him.

“I thought you quit?” There’s hurt in Jongin’s eyes as he looks from the smoldering cigarette in Sehun’s fingers, up to his face, mirroring a deer in the headlights, caught in the pass of the paper filter to his lips. He quickly drops the half-smoked cigarette to the icy ground and rubs his hands on his jeans, as if to get the scent off.

“I did, for a while- for you- but I ended up… In Boomerang.” Sehun tries to make an excuse, crushing the cigarette under the heel of his shoe and moving to hold Jongin’s hand. Jongin pulls away, and wrinkles his nose.

“You smell.” Jongin says. A look passes over him, and he sits out on the step with Sehun, shivering a little because he’s dressed for the indoors while it’s still freezing outside. Sehun unzips his jacket and pulls Jongin into it, trying to share some body heat. If Jongin hates the way he smells so much, he’ll just have to be cold, but instead he snuggles into the embrace. “You never talked about Boomerang, you know. You were always asking about me, and never talk about what happened to you in there.”

Sehun freezes up. It’s not that he intentionally didn’t tell Jongin things about those two years, it’s just that they make him depressed to bring up. Its as if the negative, stagnant energy the recovery home shows up to pull Sehun down whenever the topic is brought up. People go to Boomerang when nothing else has worked on them. They go because the short term psych wards have deemed them a lost cause, they go because the government doesn’t want to clean up another dead body after they inevitably jump off a bridge. The place is saturated in sadness and lost hope, and Sehun doesn’t know how to put a positive spin on it, make it seem to Jongin that he may not have had a miserable time those two years and three months, alone at Boomerang.

“Statistically speaking, it would be weird for me not to smoke.” Sehun tries to joke. “Did you know that almost every patient at Boomerang smoked? And every single schizophrenic I met in there did, too.”

“They’ll all get cancer.” Jongin says seriously. Then, after a moment, “Why?”

Sehun pauses, feeling his fingers twitch as if ashing an invisible cigarette, the ghost of the one he’d had in his hands when Jongin came out. “Something about it helps us. At least, the schizophrenics. Maybe the depressed ones are looking to hurt themselves. Like maybe they’ll get lucky and not have to kill themselves because lung cancer will get them first.” Sehun laughs for a second, but stops when he realizes Jongin doesn’t find it funny.

“Anyways.” He clears his throat. “Anyways, there was another patient at Boomerang. Johnny Seo. He and I were having a smoke one day during a break and just got to talking. We were both giving each other shit for smoking, even with a cigarette in each of our hands. He got all weird for a second and asked me why, and I had to think…” Sehun watches Jongin, seeing him leaning in, watching his lips as he speaks.

“So I ended up realizing that in whatever way, the nicotine helped with my psychosis. For a brief moment, it softened the fear and made the world a little bit easier to handle. Especially before I got used to the medication, I needed something to help me deal. It was a bad coping skill, but a coping skill nonetheless. I took whatever I could get back then.”

“You don’t _need_ them anymore, though, do you?” Jongin finally asks.

Sehun laughs dryly, a mirthless sound. “Yeah. Now I’m just addicted.”

“Quit again.” Jongin says with finality, tacking on a softer, “For me?” At the end.

Sehun finds himself nodding, handing over the half-empty pack of menthols he’d been holding. Jongin stuffs it into his pocket with a soft smile and Sehun knows he’s doing the right thing. Seeing Jongin happy, proud, anything- seeing him being bright and better and alive and satisfied is so fulfilling, makes Sehun happier than anything else.

Jongin leans further into Sehun’s shoulder, drawing their shared jacket closer around his shoulders. The two of them are both wide-shouldered, and it’s tight. Sehun’s left side, the one not pressed against Jongin, feels the bite of the night air.

They sit in companionable silence for a moment. The stars are obscured by the smog of the city, just the hazy moon showing through the cloud cover. Fire escapes from the apartments above the ground floor form a latticework of iron bars, jailing Jongin and Sehun in the littered floors of the alley, only letting the silvery mist of their breath float up and away, slip through the metal and into the sky.

“Come home with me tonight.” Jongin murmurs.

Sehun slides his cold hand into Jongin’s.

 

—-

 

There’s a difference in their nights together now.

Simple fucking has turned into making love.

 

_(That night, when Sehun sleeps, he doesn’t dream of Jongin._

_He doesn’t dream of anything._

_All he’s ever dreamed of is within his reach)._

**Author's Note:**

> please leave a comment if you thought this was okay! nothing motivates me more to write than hearing what y'all have to say.  
> talk to me at btsdadd or whyjaehwan on tumblr!
> 
> also: a note i want to make: you may be wondering why sehun's schizophrenia is not mentioned here as much, when it was so influential earlier on in his life. it may seem like i'm pretending you can just 100% recover, may seem like i'm devaluing the illness, etc, but pertaining to this, i have a few things to say: sehun's been in treatment for over two years in this story. through this, he has an incredible level of understanding of his illness and symptoms as well as strong control over himself. as well, he is now on a steady dose of medication, and has had, again, those two years to work out the correct dosages and types of medication to take. now, of course, schizophrenia doesn't just go away completely. (i would know, i'm schizophrenic). but for the sake of this story, and keeping it more lighthearted and focused on rebirth, sehun's symptoms are very well managed by his medication. 
> 
> thanks!


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